


Sweet 16

by starrynightshade



Series: You and I [4]
Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: F/M, POV Original Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-10-02
Packaged: 2018-02-19 03:21:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2372663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrynightshade/pseuds/starrynightshade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgen Jones has a problem; a problem with shaggy brown hair and really nice arms. Not that she's noticed that, because Kyle Deeks is her best friend and she would never... okay, she's totally noticed. But it's gonna take at least 1 birthday, 3 teasing siblings, 4 meddling parents, 1 mean girl, 3 really bad tattoo ideas, and 2 dangerous situations for them to admit they're in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Two Candles

"You aren't seriously going to eat that, are you?" I asked. Kyle smiled at the creation in his hands, vanilla ice cream drenched in hot fudge and pineapple.

"Yes I am. And now I'm not sharing with you." He said as we walked away from the ice cream shop and back to where our towels were laid out on the sand.

"I don't need you to share with me. I have my own." I reminded him, indicating my Oreo sundae.

We sat down on our towels, facing each other. "Wait!" He cried when I tried to take a bite of my ice cream. Kyle turned around and pulled two birthday candles from his bag. The first, a pink one, was shoved rather unceremoniously into my dessert. After sticking a blue candle in his own sundae, he produced a plastic lighter from the depths of his bag and lit both candles.

I knew what was coming next, and I figured I could either suffer through it awkwardly or join in. I chose to join in. Several heads turned as the two of us began a somewhat loud and very off-key rendition of "Happy Birthday to Us."

"…happy birthday Morgen and Kyle! Happy birthday to us!" We sang before blowing out our candles.

I had a spoonful of Oreo goodness halfway to my mouth when a voice behind us said "Oh my gosh! Are you guys like, twins? I have to get a picture of you for my blog!" I turned my head to see what appeared to be a life-sized Malibu Barbie, complete with bikini-clad minions; and all of them were looking at us.

I'm not gonna lie. It would be pretty hard to try to pass me and Kyle off as twins. Sure, we share a birthday, but we look nothing alike. His mop of brown hair and bright blue eyes are a sharp contrast to my own honey blonde waves and hazel irises. There was also the fact that a recent growth spurt had him measuring in at 6' 1" while I was just barely five and a half feet tall.

I was about to say so, but Kyle beat me to it. "No, we just share the same birthday. Crazy, huh?"

"Yeah, so crazy. You guys totally seem like siblings. Right girls?" The girls behind her nodded in agreement. It was the same song and dance I'd been through hundreds of times since we were about thirteen: girl tries to catch Kyle's eye, realizes how close we are, assumes I'm some sort of threat to her chances with him, tries to eliminate threat by stressing how familial our relationship is, looks pretty stupid the whole time.

A few minutes later, the girl was walking back up the beach with a picture of us (Kyle) on her phone and what I suspect was a fake phone number. "You gave her a fake, didn't you?" I asked.

"Yup."

"Kyle Elliot Deeks!" I pretended to scold him. "That poor girl is probably going to cry herself to sleep because of you."

Kyle didn't seem too concerned. "Eh. She'll be fine in the long run. Besides, she's not my type."

"Oh, you have a 'type' now? Do tell."

"Well it's not a type so much as it is a list of requirements."

"Requirements?" I asked. "Such as..?"

"Well, she has to be funny, that's a given. She has to be a good surfer. Intelligent and a little bit competitive. She should be honest, ya know? Like, a girl who tells it like it is. Oooh! And she has to have good taste in movies."

"Oh, only that?" I asked sarcastically. "Nothing you forgot?"

"Yeah, appetite. She has to have a good appetite. I can't deal with a girl who thinks lettuce is a meal."

"Speaking of meals, I wanna catch a few more waves before we go get dinner. Are you coming?" I asked, getting up and picking up my board.

"Of course I'm coming. Who else is gonna show you how to surf?"

"Your mom." I deadpanned. "Or your dad, or my dad, or your sister…"

"Okay, okay. I get the point. Just let me get a drink first."

"Come on slowpoke." I said, tapping my foot (which really isn't as effective on sand). "Always six hours behind."

"That was one time!" He objected, putting away his water bottle. "And in my defense, I'm pretty sure my mom was trying to hold me in."


	2. Shark Tattoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to hear him say that a thousand times.

When we finally came back to shore the sun was low in the sky, just brushing the surface of the water.

"Best birthday ever!" I said, collapsing onto my towel.

"Is that a challenge?" Kyle shook his hair like a dog, then looked over to me.

"You think everything's a challenge."

"I do. Which is why we're getting tattoos next year."

"You have to be 18 to get a tattoo, stupid."

"Not if you have parental consent."

"Do you really think our parentals are going to consent to that?"

"Why not? They all have tattoos."

"Yeah, which they got as adults." I reasoned.

"And we'll be almost adults."

"Okay." I said. "Let's pretend that we somehow manage to convince our parents to let us get tattoos. What would you want to get? And if you say matching tramp stamps I will slap you."

"You wouldn't get matching tramp stamps with me?" He pouted.

"I wouldn't get a tramp stamp at all!" I said. In front of us the sun was sinking behind the horizon, painting the sky vivid shades of amber, blush, and lavender.

"I don't know." He admitted. "I was hoping you might have an idea. Besides, we've got 12 months to figure it out."

"Well," I stood up and brushed myself off, "we can try to figure it out over dinner. Come on, slowpoke. We're going to Marco's, my treat."

The drive to our favorite diner was short and within ten minutes we were walking through the door of Marco's beach burgers.

"Ay! Mojo! The usual?" Asked Rick, the diner's graying owner, from behind the counter.

"It's like you're reading my mind, Rick!" I smiled. I don't know why a diner owned by a guy named Rick would be called Marco's, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised since Rick's the one who gave me the nickname Mojo.

"Hey Mara!" Rick called to a dark haired waitress. She looked up at the sound of her name. "You give these two whatever they want, okay? It's their birthday." Mara gave a mock salute before returning to her work. "You two go sit down. I'll have your food ready in a few." He said to us. Kyle and I thanked him and went to go sit in our favorite booth.

As we waited for our dinner, Kyle tried to come up with tattoo ideas while I played with a loose string on one of my bracelets.

"What about a shark?"He suggested. I shook my head. "An orca?" Thankfully I was spared from having to listen to more bad tattoo ideas by Mara, who had arrived with our food.

I picked up a French fry and dunked it in my ranch dressing. "Mmmm…" I sighed, contentedly. Kyle had cut his cheeseburger in half, trading one part of it for two of my chicken strips.

"To 16 years!" He said, holding his lemonade in the air.

"To 16 more!" I tapped my glass against his and we both drank.

"Alright, we've got one week of summer left. I say we pack up the truck and follow the surf."

"It's like you think we're orphans." I said, taking a bite of my burger. "Our parents are NOT going to agree to that. Besides, Lyla leaves for Stanford in two days. I can't just not be there."

We spent the rest of the meal tossing around ideas on how we should spend the next week. Eventually, we finished eating and asked for our bill. Mara just said "Rick says 'happy birthday!'" and walked back to the kitchen. I left Mara a $20 tip and we headed back to Kyle's truck.

It was dark out, save for the city lights, and I rested my head against the cool window of the truck with my eyes closed.

"Morgen?" I was surprised how pretty my name sounded rolling off his tongue, every letter sound sliding into the next, like gentle waves lapping at the shore. Six letters, two syllables, one cumulative name. Not Mo, or Mojo. Morgen. I wanted to hear him say that a thousand times.

"Hm?" I mumbled, not opening my eyes.

"You're really cute when you're tired."

I swear I meant to say something really sassy back, but he had woken me up at 2:04 AM with a happy birthday text, and we had been surfing all day, and the sound of the engine humming was just so relaxing. I fell asleep against the window with a smile on my face.


	3. French Toast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Two people going to a movie together with no parental supervision or additional accompaniment? Sounds like a date to me."

We decided to go to a movie on Monday-some action flick that Kyle was dying to see- so that morning I got up extra early so I could make Lyla breakfast before she left for her last day of work. I got straight to work, whipping up French toast and bacon. Mom came downstairs first, followed closely by a bedraggled looking Dad.

"What's this?" She asked, starting some coffee.

"Kyle and I are going to the movies tonight and I want to borrow Lyla's car, so I thought it might help if she was in a good mood when I asked her. And nothing puts Ly in a good mood like a hot breakfast before work."

"So what I'm hearing is that you want to bribe your sister into letting you borrow her car." Dad said.

"Yeah, pretty much." I admitted. "Well, I just feel bad because Kyle drove everywhere on Saturday. I don't want him to feel like he has to drive every time we go out."

"So is it a date?" Mom asked, sipping her coffee. "Because we agreed that you could date when you turned sixteen."

"Ewww. No, Mom. It's just Kyle."I said. On what planet would I go on a date with Kyle? Not this one, that's for sure.

"Good." Dad said, flicking through the news on his tablet. "Because clearly you misheard me when I said that you couldn't date until you were sixty."

"So if it's not a date, who else is coming?" Mom asked, ignoring Dad's comment.

"Well, Dex is still at his lacrosse camp and Miles has his annual camping trip, and Eve can't come because she just had her wisdom teeth pulled, so it's just the two of us."

"Yep," Mom said "totally not a date."

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" I asked, plating a few slices of French toast and sprinkling powdered sugar over them.

"Alright, I know when I'm not wanted." Mom said, following Dad back upstairs to get ready for work. "Have fun on your date!" She called back to me as she ascended the stairs.

I rolled my eyes and turned my attention back to the bacon sizzling on the stove. Lyla came downstairs just as I was setting her plate on the table.

"Mmmm. Is that for me?" She asked. Her long auburn hair was tied back in a braid and she was wearing one of her favorite vintage-inspired dresses.

"Of course."I said, pouring two glasses of orange juice. I set them on the table and put a few slices of French toast on my own plate, making sure I left enough for Delia.

Lyla's green eyes met mine through the black frames of her glasses. "Why do I get the sense you want something?"

"What, I can't make breakfast for my favorite college bound sister?" I asked innocently. She raised an eyebrow, silently calling my bluff. "Okay, can I borrow your car tonight?"

"Is this about your date?" She asked, biting into a strip of bacon.

"Momo has a date?" Delia asked, shuffling into the kitchen. It was anyone's guess when Cordelia would wake up during the summer. Sometimes she was up before the sun, and sometimes she would spend all morning making up for sleep lost to a sketch or painting the night before. Today seemed to be somewhere in between. Her loose blonde curls hung unbrushed around her face and she was still wearing her pajamas, but her eyes were bright, like she had just woken from a restful sleep.

"It's not a date!" I repeated.

"Two people going to a movie together with no parental supervision or additional accompaniment? Sounds like a date to me." Lyla said.

"How did you..?" I started.

"Mom was almost too giddy to even tell me." She smirked, biting into her French toast.

"So who's the lucky guy?" Delia asked, sitting down with her breakfast. Her green eyes twinkled at the prospect of a romance brewing in the household, and I felt the familiar stirring of jealousy that I was the only one of the three of us who hadn't inherited our father's eyes. It didn't matter though because they would never look as pretty with my tanned skin as they did against Delia's fair complexion, or as striking as they did in combination with Lyla's dark hair.

"Kyle." I replied. "Which brings me back to my original point that this isn't a date."

"It's totally a date." Delia decided.

I groaned in frustration before turning to my older sister. "Can I borrow the car or not?"

"Yes, you may borrow the car." Lyla said. "But only if you let me do your hair for your date."

"You people are impossible!" I said, shoving my dishes in the dishwasher. "I bet Natalie never does this to Kyle!"

"We just want you to look your best for your man cake of a boyfriend." Delia giggled, enjoying my obvious annoyance.

"Ewww! Those are not words that I ever wanted to hear from my baby sister. And he isn't my boyfriend!"

Why does this concept seem so difficult for people to understand? Just because we share the same hobbies, like the same food, spend a lot of our free time together and tell eachother everything, it doesn't mean we're anything other than friends. Does it?


	4. Batman Shirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And now I'm pretty sure he's gonna be one of those parents that takes his kid to a strip club for thier eighteenth birthday and I can't Mo, I can't go to a strip club with my dad, there's no way."

By the time I left the house that night, Lyla had brushed, braided, bobby pinned, spritzed, sprayed, straightened and (finally) approved my hair. The final product gave the effect of a headband and the feeling of an oncoming headache,but I had to admit that it looked pretty good.

Delia had pouted when I wouldn't let her do my makeup, and both of them had tried to persuade me to borrow one of the dresses Lyla hadn't packed up to bring to school. I held my ground though, and when I finally got into Lyla's car I was sporting a particularly comfy pair of jeans and a batman t-shirt that I had rescued from the depths of my closet. I found it a little strange that I would have a batman t-shirt, I'm really more of a Marvel fan, but it was soft and clean so I pulled it on and dashed for the door before my family could make any more rediculous demands or accusations.

I pulled into Kyle's driveway a few minutes later, cut the engine and walked up to the door. His mom answered it and ushered me inside. "Aunt Kensi!" I smiled as she pulled me into a hug.

"Kyle will be down in a minute." She said. "He just has to find his wallet." I rolled my eyes. Kyle was the tidiest teenage boy I had ever known, yet somehow he always managed to be losing things.

I was about to ask what classes Natalie would be taking once school started when the girl herself walked in. "Mo! Your hair looks so pretty!"

"Oh, thanks. Lyla wouldn't let me out of the house without thoroughly attacking my scalp."

"Well, it looks really pretty." She said, flashing her dazzling white smile at me. Natalie Deeks is her mother's daughter; from her chocolate-colored curls and coffee brown eyes, to her perfect cheekbones and endlessly long legs. She likes surfing well enough and isn't half bad, but she would much rather spend her days on the beach winning match after match of volleyball than riding waves with me and her big brother. I had learned early on just how lethal she was with a volleyball, so I only ever played with her if I got to be on her team. She had spent the last week preparing herself to try out for the school team and I was sure that she would make the cut, even though freshmen hardly ever do.

"Found it!" Kyle said, thundering down the stairs. "Bye Mom! Bye Nat!" He said, then he grabbed my hand and dragged me out the door.

"What was that about?" I asked as he continued to pull me towards the car.

"They have been acting completely insane all day." He said, opening my door. When I was settled in my seat he jogged around the front of the car and slipped into the passenger's seat, forcing the door closed behind him.

"Are you alright?"

"Just drive. I'll tell you on the way." He pleaded. As soon as I had backed out of the driveway he began recounting his day at a rapid fire pace. "Mom and Dad have been giving eachother this look all day. I don't even know how to describe it, it's like an evil plotting look, like they're scheming together or something and Nat's been following me around all day asking about you and telling me what to wear and then before you picked me up my parents where all 'stay out as late you want and have fun.' And then my dad was like 'but not too much fun.' And then he winked at me, actually winked at me. Then he handed me a twenty and was all 'you two should go get fro-yo afterward.' And now I'm pretty sure he's gonna be one of those parents that takes his kid to a strip club for thier eighteenth birthday and I can't Mo, I can't go to a strip club with my dad, there's no way." He finished breathlessly. "Is that my shirt?"

"I think you might be overreacting." I said.

"No, I'm pretty sure that's my shirt. I left it at your house like a year ago."

"I meant about your dad." I said. "And I'm keeping this shirt it's comfy."

He shrugged. "Probably wouldn't fit me anymore anyway." It was true. His growth spurt had been accompanied by a significant amount of muscle, especially in his arms. Not that I notice his arms and how toned they are. That would be crazy. Just because he spends half his time with me shirtless doesn't mean I spend that time staring at his arms, or his chest, or his abs.

Okay, maybe a little, but it's for science.

"If it makes you feel any better, my family was seriously weird today too."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I think they might all be co-conspiring."

"For what purpose?"

"To get us together."

He chuckled at that. "Well, they're going to be sorely dissappointed, aren't they?"

I pulled into the theater parking lot. "Indeed, they are."

After I parked the car, we grabbed our things and walked together towards the door. "So what's this movie about?" I asked as Kyle fell into step with me.

"Scarlett Johansson plays this CIA operative that's been in hiding in Moscow for ten years and has to..." He continued to animatedly explain the premise of the film while my mind wandered off to a place were I was allowed to reach out and intertwine my fingers with his. The idea made my hand tingle and my stomach flutter.

Our families would be sorely dissappointed if we didn't get together, but a tiny part of my mind was starting to think that I would be too.


	5. Happiest Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If it helps," I called after him "you smell like the beach."

On the first day of school I rode with Kyle. I was in the bathroom when I heard the doorbell, and when I got downstairs I found Kyle standing in the kitchen, making small talk with my mom.

"You ready?" I asked, swinging my backpack onto my shoulder. He nodded and picked up his keys. "Bye mom!" I said, snagging a banana and my lunchbox off the counter on my way out the door.

"Bye!" Kyle called over his shoulder, and with that we were out the door.

The car ride started out pretty quietly, with both of us just listening to the radio, until I caught him watching me out of the corner of his eye for the third time. "What? Did I sprout an extra arm or something?"

"No."

"Then why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like I'm some sort of alien!"

"It's nothing."He mumbled. "You just… you look nice is all. Okay?"

I rolled my eyes and tried to hide the blush creeping across my cheeks. "Well, contrary to popular belief I do own nice clothes." It was a teensy bit of a lie. I had found myself digging through my closet that morning, rejecting all my usual t-shirts, tank tops, board shorts, and jeans. Eventually I had given up and braved the eerie emptiness of Lyla's room to raid what was left of her wardrobe. The green sundress I had borrowed looked much prettier against the dark red of Lyla's hair, but it was a step up from my usual attire so I didn't complain.

Kyle held his hands up in surrender. "I never said you didn't." There was a brief lull in the conversation before he piped up again. "So… junior year."

"Ah, yes." I said. "The year of testing, testing, testing and prom. Because nothing says 'hypocrisy' like concluding our most mentally taxing year of school with an election based almost completely on looks and rumors spread in bathrooms."

"We should go." He mused.

"Where? To prom?" I asked incredulously.

"Yeah. It could be fun. Dressing up, having a nice dinner, dancing, watching you try to walk in heels..."

"Are you being serious right now?" I asked.

"Yes I'm being serious. It could be fun." He said, pulling into a parking spot and putting the truck in park. "Just, consider it. Okay?"

"Fine. Now, let's get to Drismond's class before all the good seats are taken."

"What? Afraid you're going to miss out on the wonders of human anatomy?"

"If you don't hurry up, I'm going to seriously alter your anatomy."

"I'm coming, I'm coming."

A few hours later, I settled into my seat in the cafeteria, drawing a container from my lunchbox and pulling off the lid. One side was full of sliced pineapple and strawberries, and the other held a sweet, fluffy substance.

"What is that?" Kyle asked, jabbing a finger at it.

"Fruit dip." I speared a strawberry and dragged it through the substance.

"There's no such thing as fruit dip." He insisted. "Dip is for carrots and celery."

I used my fork to pick up a slice of pineapple. "Fruit." I held it up for him to see before dipping it into the other side of the container. "Dip." I popped the pineapple into my mouth.

"Dip is for vegetables!"He insisted.

"Not this dip."I said. I dunked another piece of pineapple in and held my fork out towards him. "Try some."

"Oh no, I want nothing to do with you and your weird, fluffy dip." He said, leaning back in his chair.

"You're a fluffy dip. Just try it." He leaned further back, darting side to side and attempting to avoid the fruit. After a few seconds, he had leaned so far back that he nearly tipped his chair over. He had to quickly grab the table and sit back up that he collided face-first with my fork, smearing fruit dip all across his mouth.

"Woah, this might be the best thing I've ever tasted." He said, licking the fruit dip off his lips.

"I told you it was good."

"Can you blame me for being a little skeptical?" He asked. "You've met my mom. I love her, but she has the culinary skills of an octopus. I tend to run screaming from the words 'try this.'"

I shook my head at him, rolling my eyes. He leaned forward on his elbows and whispered "McManus at your six and moving in."

I tried not to groan. I had made it through my first three hours without having to see our resident she-devil Sierra McManus, but apperently that streak had ended.

She was preceded by the smell of overpriced Chanel perfume and the most pretentious sound in the world- high heels on the floor of a high school cafeteria.

"Oh my goodness! Kyle Deeks? I didn't see you all summer! You've grown like, a foot!" Four and a half inches, actually. Then again, she'd never been exceptionally gifted academically. "And Morgen's here too. Wow, you're so...tan." I really doubt 'tan' was the word she wanted to use.

Sierra had been after Kyle since freshman year, and when he'd turned her down she had immediately accused me of brainwashing him. In reality, she was just too obnoxious, needy and self-centered for him to deal with.

"I was so sad you couldn't make it to my birthday party." She said, returning her attention to Kyle.

"Yeah, sorry I couldn't come. Mo and I were giving surf lessons that day." The second part was true. We really had been giving a surfing lesson that day to Rick's seven-year-old granddaughter, Mia.

"Well, maybe you can teach me sometime." She said, placing a hand on his arm. I fought back a gag.

"Oh, well... Morgen's a much better teacher than me." He said.

"Oh, don't be so modest! I'm sure you're a great teacher." She said, flipping her artificially blonde hair over her shoulder.

I tucked the rest of my lunch back into my lunchbox and stood up. " I'm going to Latin, okay? I'll see you later." I couldn't stand to watch another second of this.

Kyle immediately scrambled for his backpack. "I'll walk with you! I have to go that direction anyway."

When we were out of earshot Kyle turned on me. "Seriously? You were just going to abandon me with her?"

"Sorry." I shrugged. "I was about to pass out from that perfume she was wearing."

"Okay, fair point. What's with that stuff anyway? Does she not realize how bad it smells?"

"I just don't think she cares. As long as it has an upscale brand name that she can throw around, she'll wear it."

"Still, I think the world would be a better place if everyone wore nice perfume like yours."

"I don't wear perfume."

"Oh," He said, before saving himself with "that's exactly my point."

We stopped in front of my class. "What exactly do I smell like to you?" I asked.

He wouldn't look at me. "Like the ocean, and lemons, and coconut, and ... You."

I shoved his shoulder in what I hope seemed like a playful way. "Oh, I smell like me? Profound."

He rolled his eyes, finally cracking a smile. "Go to Latin!" He said, starting to walk away.

"If it helps," I called after him "you smell like the beach."

He really did smell like the beach, but in a way that was uniquely him. It was the smell I associated with some of my happiest memories. My favorite smell in the world


	6. Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm sorry, are we talking about the same people who let you drive when you were eight?"

It was in Latin class the next week that I had the idea. I checked to make sure the teacher wasn't watching before pulling up my email on my tablet. I typed 'tattoo' into the subject box before sending it off to Kyle. I could only imagine the confused look on his face when he saw the string of letters: VII.XXII.MMXX

Sure enough, his reply was a single question mark. I typed back: It's our birthdate in Roman numerals. The bell rang just as I sent my reply.

When he cought up with me in the hall I could tell he was excited. "I love it!" He declared, falling into step with me as we walked towards our next class.

"What?" I asked, even though we both knew what he was talking about.

"The tattoo! I wanna get it right here." He said, trailing a finger along his bicep. "Where are you putting yours?"

"I was thinking I'd put it right over my nowhere." I said. "There is no way our parents are letting us get tattoos. Okay, your parents might, but mine are not going to agree to it."

"You never know until you try." He said. I could tell he head his mind set on this and he wasn't letting it go any time soon. "Just promise you'll ask."

I caved. "Alright, I can ask, but I won't promise anything."

* * *

That night, I came downstairs for a drink before bed. Mom and Dad were curled up on the couch watching tv together.

"Hey, little duck." Dad said as I settled on the couch and curled into his side like I did when I was a kid. I had been his little duck since I was six. He had taken me surfing for the first time and said I took to it like a duck to water.

"How do you guys do it?"

"Do what?" Mom asked.

"This." I said. "Your jobs, and this family, and all the other stuff you do. How do you stay together?"

Dad clicked off the tv and turned to look at me. "We love eachother, and we love you and your sisters. That's why we do everything we do."

"Isn't it hard though? Half my friends' parents are divorced or seperated and they don't go through a fraction of the stress that you do."

Mom smiled at me. "Love is friendship set on fire. I married my best friend. Having someone that understands me and can make me laugh when the stress starts to become too much is the reason I'm still sane after all these years."

My mind began swimming with all the times Kyle had made me laugh just that day. I pulled myself off the couch. "Maybe you should let other people tell you you're sane. You know, just to be sure."

"Very funny." She said. "Don't you have school or something tomorrow?"

"Hmmmm." I tapped a finger against my chin, pretending to think about it. "Now that you mention it, I think I do remember something about becoming educated."

"Well you better get some sleep then." Dad said.

"Good night." I turned to head upstairs before remembering what I had promised Kyle. "Uh, one more thing."

Mom raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Can I get a tattoo?"

They shared a look, then turned thier heads back towards me. "A tattoo of what?"

"Kyle wants to get our birthday in Roman numerals." I said, bracing for thier response. I hadn't realized how much I wanted them to agree to it until I felt like I was staring a refusal in the face.

"Okay."

"What?" I asked, still trying to understand what had just happened.

Mom laughed a little. "We said okay. You can get the tattoo as long as you do tour research and pay for it yourself."

"Really?"

"You're a smart girl, little duck. You know that this is permanent, so if it really means enough to you, you'll make it happen."

"Thank you so much!" I squealed, running back over to hug them. "Kyle will be so excited! I'm going to call him right now." I bounded up the stairs to my room and snatched my phone up.

He answered on the second ring. "Mo?"

"They said yes!" I blurted without preamble.

"What?"

"My parents said I could get the tattoo!"

"That's nice, Mo." He sounded so dejected.

"Kyle, what's wrong?"

"My parents said no." He made the statement sound almost like a question, as if he wasn't sure it was true. "They gave me this big lecture on responsibility and regret and how there are rules and age restrictions for a reason."

"I'm sorry, are we talking about the same people who let you drive when you were eight?"

"My thoughts exactly."

"So we just have to figure out how to convince them. I'll see if I can get my parents to talk to them about it tomorrow, okay?"

"Alright, I'll see you in the morning." He sighed. "Love you, Mo." That simple sentence nearly broke my heart. It already meant so much, so why did I want it to mean something else?

"Love you too. Good night."

 


	7. Play Along

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Alright, we just have to find something you can be committed to."

Good morning!" Kyle said as I climbed into the truck the next morning.

"You're very chipper this morning." I commented.

"Yes, I am. And do you know why?" He asked, pulling out of the driveway.

"I assume you're going to tell me."

"Because I am confident that the two of us are going to come up with the perfect plan to convince my parents that I should get a tattoo."

"Okay, did they mention anything in particular that you could do to prove yourself or something?"

He thought about it for a second. "They said that I had to prove I could commit to something."

"Alright, we just have to find something you can be committed to."

"No problem." He said, but I could hear the confidence in his voice slipping a bit.

We could do this, right? We had to.

We were walking to English later that morning when Kyle saw the poster. It was tacked to a cork board surrounded by various announcements for upcoming tryouts, auditions, and college visits. "Look at this! 'Auditions for the upcoming charity talent show next Friday in the auditorium. Proceeds from the show benefit the Red Cross.'" He read. "We should do it! Nothing says 'committed' like charity work."

"And what are we going to do, huh? Surf? Translate things?"

"No, but that reminds me: will you help me with my French homework tonight?"

"Oui, if you tell me what you think we're going to do in a talent show."

He turned his big blue eyes on me, pouting his lower lip ever so slightly. Oh no.

"Absolutely not." I said, marching towards our English class with renewed vigor.

"Please Mo?" He begged, easily catching up with me.

"No." I repeated. "You know I don't sing in front of people."

"You sing in front of me." He argued.

"I sing with you. It's different." I insisted. "Then it's just you and me, and you don't make me nervous." He didn't used to make me nervous. Things were a little different now.

"And it will be just you and me."

"And an entire auditorium full of people."

"Not for the auditions." He said. I willed myself not to look into his big pleading eyes. I failed.

"I'll think about it." I lied, hoping that would do the trick.

"Thank you!" He hugged me so tight that my feet dangled above the floor, trailing behind me as he spun me around.

"That's not a yes." I reminded him as my feet found solid ground again.

He barreled on with his big plans. "We can start rehearsing tonight!"

"After you finish your French assignment."

"Oui, Oui madamouselle." I rolled my eyes. It was going to be a long light.

Believe it or not, Sierra McManus is the one who convinced me to do the talent show. She didn't mean to, but it just sort of worked out that way.

I was standing outside of my Latin class that afternoon, waiting for Kyle so we could walk to political history together, when she and her two favorite clones walked by.

"I totes don't even get why anyone would, like, actually want to study Latin." She said, making sure she said it loud enough for me to hear. "Nobody even talks Latin anymore."

I was done. "Actually, Sierra, Latin is the root of many of the English words you seem to enjoy slaughtering so much." I could almost see her little brain trying to pick the insult out of my words. Failing that, she opted for a different tactic.

"Well, hopefully you know the Latin word for hairbrush, because it looks you haven't used one in a month. There's also this magical thing called makeup. You should try it sometime." Her companions each gave a smug giggle before being waved off. Apparently whatever she was about to say was between just the two of us. "I don't know what lies you've been telling Kyle, but they better stop."

"I don't lie to Kyle." I said coolly.

"Oh please!" She scoffed. "I have ears all over this school. I know what you've been saying to him about me."

In my pocket my phone went off, giving off four short vibrations. I only used that vibration sequence for Kyle. When I pulled the phones out the screen showed one text from Kyle: Play along. What was that supposed to mean?

I looked back to Sierra. "I don't say anything about you to Kyle that he doesn't agree with wholeheartedly. And as far as my appearance goes, I don't really care what you think, I like the way I look. But no ammount of makeup is going to fix your personality."

She opened her mouth to respond, but it was at that moment that Kyle finally appeared. "Hey beautiful!" Was he talking to me? He draped an arm over my shoulders and dropped a kiss on the top of my head, sending tingles down my spine. In one swift moment of clarity it all made sense: Play along.

So I did. "Hey yourself." I said, standing on tiptoe and kissing his cheek. "How was math?"

He shrugged. "Nothing special. Hey, do you mind if we do talent show stuff at your house tonight? I guess Natalie offered up our place for team bonding and forgot to tell me."

Sierra cut in before I could respond. "You guys are doing the talent show too? What's your act?"

"It's a surprise." I said.

"How mysterious." Clearly Kyle's presence was bringing her 'little miss perfect' act back, but I could see the way she was fixated on his arm around my shoulders. "I'll be singing." She said without prompting. "My vocal coach says I'm making remarkable progress."

"Well, I guess we'll see you at auditions." Kyle said. "We better get going." He added, glancing at his watch.

We walked off towards our next class together, his arm still resting on my shoulders. "Did you see her face?" I asked once we had gotten further down the hall.

"I thought smoke was going to start pouring out of her ears." He laughed. "I'm glad you got my text."

"Yeah, me too."

"So you'll do the talent show?"

I sighed. "I guess I don't really have a choice anymore, do I?"

"Not really. But just think of the look on Sierra's face when she realizes you're smarter, prettier, and more talented than her." He gave me a gentle squeeze, and I realized that he hadn't removed his arm even though we had left Sierra's line of sight a while ago.

Did he really think all those things about me? It was no secret that Sierra's IQ was lower than the temperature in Russia, it was easy to beat her out in that category, but I found it hard to believe that he saw me as prettier and more talented. I shook the thoughts from my head; this wasn't a competition. So why did I feel like I was winning when Kyle smiled at me like that?


	8. About...Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why was he so blurry?

That night I found myself sitting on my bed plucking at the strings of my ukulele. Kyle was sitting on my desk chair, strumming away at his guitar. We were supposed to be playing "ho, hey" but he kept replacing the word 'sweetheart' with 'pop tart' making me start to laugh and mess up.

He set his guitar down, leaning it against the perfectly organized bookshelf. "So what should we play for the talent show?" He asked, running a hand along the spines.

I shrugged, strumming out the first few measures of "Hey, Soul Sister" before flopping backwards onto the mattress. "We're pretty good at 'Over the Rainbow.' Why don't we do that one?"

"No, that one's overdone, plus it's kind of long."

"Okay, what did you have in mind?"

He walked back over to my desk and switched on my tablet. "I think this one would really suit your voice. It's not that complicated, so we should be able to learn it in time for auditions." He said, entering my password and pulling up YouTube. After a quick search he picked a video with lyrics and turned up the volume. I closed my eyes, taking in the blend of the vocals and the instruments, lazily swinging my feet back and forth over the side of the bed.

"I like it." I said, once the music had stopped. "If we start now we can probably finish with the first chorus by the time you have to go."

"Well, what are we waiting for?" He asked, picking his guitar back up and plopping down into my desk chair. After an hour, we had nearly perfected the first half of the song.

"So, what do we do now?" I asked, putting my ukulele away.

He closed his guitar case before looking back at me. "About what?"

"About ... Us, and this whole situation with Sierra."

He smiled at me, that stupid shit-eating grin that I just can't say no to. "See how far we can push her until she breaks."

That answered all of the questions that I had left unspoken. None of this was real for him, this was just an elaborate game to anger Sierra and he had simply assumed that I was on his team. Fine. I would play my part for him and I would do it so well that he couldn't tell the difference between our lies and reality.

I walked with Kyle to the truck and waved as he pulled out, then I headed straight to the bathroom. I had hoped the hot water of the shower would strengthen my resolve, yet somehow I just felt suffocated. Resigning myself to a night of terrible sleep, I grabbed a book and settled under the turquoise sheets of my bed. My eyes flitted over the words on the page, but my mind was elsewhere, trying to figure out if I could play this game without getting hurt. For now I would play along, so maybe one day we could stop playing altogether.

The crowd cheered in excitement as our team scored yet another touchdown. I could only imagine what we must look like to supporters of the opposing team, a mass of orange despite the fact that our school colors were blue and silver.

I had never had particularly strong emotions one way or the other about football, although it was pretty entertaining when Mom and Dad's favorite teams went head to head. I had taken extra care getting ready for this game though, even going so far as to track down an orange headband to match my t-shirt, because tonight's game was helping raise money for leukemia research. So when one of our senior players scored another touchdown for our team, and an additional $1,000 in pledge money from area businesses, I stood up and cheered with everyone else.

"They're on fire tonight!" Kyle shouted over the din of the crowd.

I nodded in agreement. Down on the field, our team was exchanching high fives while the cheerleaders engaged the student section in one of thier more exuberant cheers. I could see Sierra's bleached-out ponytail bobbing up and down among those of the other cheerleaders as they kicked and shouted thier way through it.

As the excitement died down, we took our seats on the bleachers again. "Are you cold?" Kyle asked, indicating the goosebumps on my arms.

"I'm fine." I said. I could stand a little chill, besides it was my own fault for not thinking to wear something warmer.

"Here, take my sweatshirt." He said unzipping it to reveal an orange tee underneath. I smiled at the realization that he had prepared for this with as much gusto as I had.

"Really, I'm fine." I insisted. I knew that I was cold, I could feel it, but I could also feel beads of sweat gathering along the back of my neck.

"I insist." Kyle said, helping me slip my arms into the sleeves of the sweatshirt. "Mojo, are you okay? Your hands are shaking." Why was he so blurry?

The excitement of the game must have been getting to me, because my heart was fluttering rapidly in my chest, and not in the way it did when Kyle kissed my cheek to make Sierra jealous. "I need to go to the bathroom." I said as a wave of nausea washed over me. Kyle just gave me confused look. Thankful that I had picked a spot on the end of the bleachers, I stood up and stepped onto the stairs.

Big mistake. Almost immediately the ground came rushing up to meet me, and the minuscule part of my brain that was still functioning wondered why I hadn't tumbled down the stairs before sinking into darkness.

The first thing I registered when I woke was light, an obnoxiously bright light waving in front of my face. I cringed away from it, squeezing my eyes shut. I wanted to open my eyes, take in my surroundings and figure out what was happening, but I simply couldn't. I didn't have the energy. I took comfort in the fact that I was surrounded by the familiar smell of Kyle. It must have been him holding my hand. Around me words like "ambulance" and "hospital" were being thrown around, and it was almost enough to make me try to open my eyes again. In the end, almost wasn't good enough, and I gladly returned to the quiet dark of unconsciousness.

"Good morning." The words were out of place here among the rythmic beeps and saline smells - they belonged with the hum of the truck's engine and the smell of morning air. I pried my eyes open and realized that Kyle was wrong; it wasn't morning. The street lights outside my window were just coming on and I could still make out the faintest smear of sunset along the horizon.

"What happened?" I asked, thankful that I could make sense of the world again.

He squeezed my hand gently. "You passed out. If I hadn't gotten up to follow you, you would have fallen down the stairs. You could have broken your neck." He looked down and shook his head, and I realized he was fighting back tears. "You scared the hell out of me Morgen."

I didn't know what to say, so I just squeezed his hand back. We were silent for a few moments while his thumb ran across the back of my hand and I took the time to process the situation. I noticed the band-aid over my inner arm and realized they must have drawn blood. "What's wrong with me?" I asked finally.

"You were hypoglycemic." He said. "Your blood sugar got really low. What did you eat today?"

I ran over my day in my head: Kyle had picked me up early so we could go surfing before school and I had eaten a banana in the car. I had skipped lunch to work with Eve on our research project in the library, then gone straight to my room after school to finish as much of my homework as I could before the game. I had stuffed some cash in the pocket of my jeans with the intention of buying something to eat at the concession stand, but I must have been so caught up in the action that I just forgot.

"A banana." I said.

"And..."

"And nothing. I kind of forgot to eat after that."

"You just 'forgot'?" He asked, clearly irritated but not truly mad.

I shrugged. "It was a busy day. I don't know what you're so upset about."

His voice had raised a few decibels as his frustration with me grew. "You could have died Morgen! And from something as stupid as forgetting to grab a snack too!" He took a deep breath and collected himself. "I'm sorry. It's just, for a couple of minutes there I thought I could actually lose you. I don't know what I would have done if..." He let the sentence die off.

I held my arms out to him and he got the message loud and clear, wrapping me up in a tight hug. It was nice to settle my head against his chest and listen to the reassuring beat of his heart. I felt like as long as I stayed there with my head tucked under his chin and his arms around me, I would be safe.


	9. She Left

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I screwed up, didn't I?"

I had been ready to leave the second I woke up in the hospital. The hospital staff however, was not thrilled with the idea of a sixteen year old checking herself out of the ER, so instead we sat and waited for my parents to arrive.

Mercifully, it was just mom who came; Dad would have been an overbearing mess, but Mom was her usual cool and collected self. After signing me out, she dropped Kyle off at the stadium to pick up the truck, then she pointed us home.

She turned down the radio (a sure sign that a serious cornversatioin was brewing) and glanced over at me. "The doctor said you hardly ate anything today."

I shrugged. "I was going to grab something at the game. I guess I got a little caught up in it."

"You're sure you didn't skip eating on purpose?"

It took me a second to realize what she was really asking. "Yeah Mom, you caught me. I woke up this morning and went 'Golly, wouldn't it be fun if I made myself hypoglycemic today and nearly died by falling down the stairs at the football game?'"

She gave me an unimpressed look. "I just wanted to make sure. And I'd appreciate it if you would dial down the sass."

She seemed satisfied with the answer though, and at first I thought she had let the issue drop. That was until the next morning, when I came downstairs to find breakfast waiting for me.

"What's all this?" I asked.

Dad handed me a plate of food. "The doctor said we should make sure you're consuming enough sugar and calories." Apparently sugar and calories meant scrambled eggs with ham and a side of banana and strawberry slices. Yum! I should become hypoglycemic more often.

Mom made sure I had eaten everything on my plate before handing me my lunchbox. "There's a sandwich, carrots, a banana, and a cookie in there." She said. "Make sure you eat it all."

I gave her a quick salute. "Yes ma'am!"

She rolled her eyes. "Looks like your ride's here, soldier." I looked out the window to see Kyle pulling into the driveway.

I grabbed my backpack and shoved my feet into my favorite pair of Nikes. "Bye mom!"

When I got into the truck Kyle greeted me with his usual "good morning" and a yogurt parfait.

"Thank you, but I can't eat another bite of food." I said, putting it in my lunchbox, right next to the cold pack. "You should have seen what my parents made me for breakfast."

"The breakfast of champions I'm sure."

"Something like that."

"Does the whole freaking school know what happened?" I asked as Kyle and I walked to our last class together. People had been asking me how I was feeling and what had happened all day, everyone from teachers to students whose names I barely knew. Had they all seen me almost fall down the stairs?

"Well, the ones who weren't there to witness it in person probably heard about it on the news."

"The what?"

"The news. You know, nightly television program that typically recounts important happenings."

"I know what the news is, I didn't know that I was on it."

"Yeah, I guess one of the local reporters was there talking about leukemia research and one of the cameramen caught it on tape."

I slapped the first part of him that I could get to.

"Ow! What was that for?" He cried, cradling the arm I had hit.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I did!"

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

"Can't talk. Gotta change!" He said racing towards the men's pool locker room.

I groaned, making my way to the women's locker room. One more hour I told myself. I could handle that, right?

The next day was Saturday, which meant Kyle and I had surf lessons with Mia all morning. The waves were perfect, at least for me and Kyle, but not really ideal for a seven- year-old. So we stayed with Mia on the beach working on her strength and balance.

"Why do I have to do this?" She asked. "I wanna surf."

"Well you're not gonna be a very good surfer if you fall off your board every time you try to stand up." Kyle said. Mia huffed, pouting her little lips, but didn't argue.

"Why don't you go get the balance board?" I asked. Kyle nodded and fished around in my bag for his keys.

"Stay here, okay? I don't need my two favorite girls getting washed out to sea." He said before running off in the direction of the truck.

I rolled my eyes and pulled my phone out. "Hey Mia, let's take some pictures for grandpa." Mia struck a few poses while I snapped away.

"I wanna take some with you!" She said. I sat down in the sand and let Mia crawl into my lap while I held my phone at arm's length.

"Is Kyle your boyfriend?" She asked between silly faces.

"What makes you say that?" I asked, setting down my phone and busying my hands with redoing her dark braid.

"Because he looks at you like you're a princess."

Thankfully, I was spared from trying to come up with a response to that little observation by Kyle, who had returned with the balance board.

"Here we go!" He said, setting it on the ground. "We're going to make you the best surfer this beach has ever seen!"

Mia did really well on the balance board, so Kyle and I agreed that she could play in the water a bit before we dropped her off at Marco's. We waded in about knee-deep, holding her hands and helping her jump over the waves as they rolled in.

When she looked sufficiently tired out, I wrapped her up in her towel and carried her back to the truck. "What do you want to listen to?" I asked, once she was buckled into her booster seat.

"Country!" Of course. I rolled my eyes and turned it to Kyle's favorite country station. I wasn't a particularly big fan of country, but Kyle loved it and he'd gotten Mia hooked too.

The drive to Marco's took twice as long during the lunch rush, so when we finally got there Mia was getting antsy and Kyle and I were both ready to eat. As soon as I opened her door she was jumping out, running into the diner. By the time we had caught up she had already tracked down Rick and some French fries to snack on.

"Deeks! Mojo! How was she today?" Rick asked as we sat down at the counter.

"She's doing great." I said. "We worked on strength and balance today, then played in the water for a little while. She'll probably be begging Eve to go to bed early tonight." I laughed.

"Are you two going back out?" He asked placing our usual order in front of us.

"Yeah, the waves are perfect." Kyle said, performing our usual swap. "Can we get a milkshake too? Morgen needs to eat more sugar."

"Ignore him." I said. "He's being obsessive. I'm completely fine."

"People who are fine don't pass out." Kyle argued.

"That was two days ago." I reminded him. "Today, I'm fine."

"And if you're going to stay fine,you need to make sure you have enough sugar."

I was about to argue when a strawberry milkshake appeared in front of me. "Thank you, Rick. Even though that was completely unnecessary." I said giving Kyle a pointed look.

"Just looking out for you Mojo." He said.

"I almost forgot! I took some pictures while we were at the beach." I said, pulling out my phone.

Over the next week, we fell into an obnoxious routine of rubbing our fake relationship into Sierra's face and Kyle constantly trying to feed me. I'm actually kind of proud that I didn't snap until Thursday night.

We were in Kyle's room, practicing for talent show auditions when it happened. At that point we knew the song inside, outside, and upside down, so we'd sort of moved on to just fooling around. I was laying sideways on his bed, staring up at the ceiling while he played some random chords on his guitar. The past week had been emotionally draining, and I had started wishing Kyle had never come up with this whole fake relationship plan at all. Of course, Sierra was so livid about the whole thing that she couldn't do much more than glare as we walked by, but I had lost count of the number of times I'd had to remind myself that it didn't mean anything to him.

"Do you want a snack?" He asked setting his guitar down.

"For the thousandth time, I do not want any food." I said slowly.

He sat down next to me. "Are you sure?" He asked, poking his way up my stomach. Clearly he was not picking up on my seriousness.

I pulled my folding knife out of the pouch in my sweatshirt. "Don't make me use this."

"You sure you don't want anything? I can make some popco-"

I sat upright and looked him in the eye. "If you offer me one more thing to eat, so help me God, I will push you out the window. I am sixteen years old, Kyle. I don't need you to controlling my life."

"Okay, okay. I was just trying to look out for you. That's what best friends do, right?"

"Is that what we are?" I regretted the words almost instantly, but I was too frustrated to care. What right did he have to worry about me? He had spent the past week obsessively trying to feed me, pretending to be my boyfriend, and helping me rehearse for a talent show that I didn't want to be in. I was done.

"What are you talking about? Of course that's what we are."

"Really? Because I was under the impression that friends don't use each other."

"Use each other?" He repeated.

"Tell me that's not what you're doing then, dragging me into this stupid game with Sierra." A part of my brain realized that we were shouting, but the rest of it was too infuriated to care.

"I thought you wanted to get back at Sierra."

"I can handle Sierra. What I can't handle, is you treating me like a conveniently placed pawn in a chess game! I'm done playing." I stood up and marched down the stairs.

"Morgen! Where are you going?"

"Home." I said, shoving my feet into my tennis shoes.

He wrapped a hand around my wrist. "Don't be silly, your house is eight miles from here."

I shoved him back with way more force than was really necessary. "I know a shortcut."

*Kyle*

The door slammed shut behind her, leaving me standing alone in the entryway and too angry to do much more than kick the wall and storm back up to my room. There was still a subtle indent where she had been laying on my bed, and in the middle of it was a flash of black and silver that I realized was Morgen's knife. I sat down on the bed, idly examining the weapon.

"Everything okay?" My dad was leaning against the doorframe of my bedroom, looking equal parts curious and concerned.

"It's-" I started, then stopped because as much as I wanted to tell him it was fine, my best friend had just stormed out because I had been stupid. "It's complicated."

"Well, complicated is my forte." He said. "Whatcha got there?"

"Mo's knife. She must have forgotten it."

"Well, sometimes a knife's just a knife." I gave him a quizzical look, but he just waved it off. "What happened?" He asked, sitting down next to me.

"We yelled, we fought, she left."

"Yeah, I heard that. These walls are not as thick as they look. What was the fight about?"

"I convinced her to pretend to be my girlfriend to get back at this nasty girl that goes to our school. That's what I told her anyway, I really just didn't have the guts to ask her out. She thinks I'm using her now, which I can't really blame her for, and she's probably going to hate me for the rest of her life."

"Kyle, Morgen's been your best friend for sixteen years, I don't think one fight is going to change that. You guys love eachother."

"That's what I'm worried about."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

I took a deep breath. "I didn't have the guts to tell Morgen how I feel about her, so I tried to show her, and it completely backfired. I was afraid to loose my best friend and that's exactly what I ended up doing."

"First of all, asking her out wouldn't mean that Mo isn't your best friend anymore. And secondly, you should get that back to her. It looks important."

"I thought a knife was just a knife."

"Sometimes a knife is just a knife, but sometimes it's a whole lot more than that."

"I screwed up, didn't I?"

"Oh yeah, big time." He said, standing up and heading for the door. "You owe her a serious apology, and I'd recommend doing that sooner rather than later."

I stood up too, pocketing the knife. "How's now?"

"As good as it's gonna get, I'd say."

I ran back down the stairs and snatched up my keys. "Thanks Dad!" I called back before racing out to the truck.

I could survive without Morgen as my girlfriend, but I wasn't going to lose my best friend.

*Morgen*

I made it just over two miles before I finally had to stop. My legs were burning and my lungs were on fire, but the adrenaline from the fight had kept pushing me forward. I stopped and leaned against the wall of an old brick building, gasping for air and fighting back the tears in my eyes.

I tried to picture myself without Kyle, and as needy and insipid as it sounds, I couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to picture a version of my life without him by my side. In one swift instant everything he did for me came rushing to the surface. I remembered him giving me his sweatshirt at the football game, picking me up insanely early in the morning to go surfing, all the times he changed the words to songs because he knew it would make me laugh, and I realized that we were more than best friends. We were two hal se of a whole.

And then I remembered that I had just ruined all of that because I couldn't keep my temper in check. I had wanted so desperately for Kyle to think of me differently that I had compromised the relationship we already had. And that's what made the tears finally start to fall.

"You alright, sweetheart?" The voice came from behind me. I turned around, furiously wiping the tears off of my cheeks.

"I'm fine." I nodded, finally looking up. There were three of them, tall college-age guys with dark clothes and cocky smiles. They certainly didn't seem to be truly concerned for my well-being, which is probably why I instinctively slid my hand into the pocket of my hoodie.

Panic started to rise up in my chest as they aproached me, trapping me against the wall. "Let us help you." Said the one on the right. The man on the left grabbed my arm, and I swollowed hard.

My knife was gone.


	10. The Way I Am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Well, I hope you're happy. We're going to be really late for school now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's title is taken from Ingrid Michaelson's song, "The Way I Am." I recommend listening to it before or while reading this chapter.

I felt the cool bricks of the building behind me. Think, Morgen. I needed to evaluate the situation. I was outnumbered by three men who had the weight and height advantage, but I could smell the alcohol on thier breath. Intoxication impairs motor skills. Given the opportunity, I should be able to outrun them. I just needed the opportunity.

My left arm was being firmly held onto, but my right arm was free. I tried to remember anything I had ever learned about self defense. Go for the soft spots and use your elbows. Bracing myself against the wall, I kicked out at the man in front of me, landing my foot in the center of his chest. In the second of surprise afterwords I was able to strike the man on the right, breaking his nose with the heel of my hand. My left hand was still being held onto, but I could move my arm vertically, so with a burst of strength, I yanked my arm up, driving my elbow into my captor's throat.

Then I ran like hell.

Now, for those of you who don't know much about Los Angeles, deserted alleyways can turn into busy roads in the blink of an eye, which is probably why my mad dash almost ended on the hood of a truck. A very familiar truck.

"You forgot your knife." Kyle said as I settled into the passenger's seat.

"Yeah. I know."

"You gonna tell me why you just ran into the road like a deranged lunatic?"

I let out a shaky laugh. "That depends, how long do you have?"

"As long as you need."

"Can I stay with you tonight?"

He didn't say anything, just turned the truck onto the road that would take us to his house.

Kyle's dad didn't even bat an eyelash when he carried me, shaking, into the house and said. "Dad, I'm home. Morgen's spending the night, can you call her parents?"

The adrenaline rush that had kept me going through the fight was wearing off, and it wasn't going to go quietly. "Here," Kyle handed me a t-shirt and a pair of shorts "you can sleep in these." Then he quietly stepped out, leaving me to change. I ended up ditching the shorts; they wouldn't stay up no matter how tight I tied the drawstring,and besides the t-shirt fell to the middle of my thighs and it wasn't like Kyle hadn't seen me in far less. By the time he returned the shaking had died down and I felt like I might be able to say more than a few words at a time.

"Morgen?" And all the frustration in the world wouldn't change the fact that I would forgive him of anything if he said my name like that. "I need to tell you something and I want you to listen until I'm done, okay?" I nodded, and then the words were spilling from his mouth like a faucet that had just been turned on. "Morgen, I'm in love with you. And if you're not in love with me, then that's fine, but I can't picture myself without you. Not because I'm in love with you, but because you're my best friend, and if that's all you ever are to me, then I'll be happy. Mo, I'm so sorry for what I put you through. I was afraid that if I admitted how I felt to you that you would reject me, but I realize now that losing you would be the scariest thing of all. So will you please please please be my best friend again?"

I sighed, shaking my head. "You big stupid idiot."

"What?"

I walked over to him until we were standing toe to toe. "I said, you're a big stupid idiot."

Then, I kissed him. And yeah, it was just a kiss, but it seemed more like breathing and it smelled like the ocean and it felt like home, and safety, and happiness. So, I stood as tall as I could, wrapping my arms around my best friend's neck, and I reveled in that feeling until I was gasping for air and Kyle's arms around my waist were the only thing keeping me upright.

"But I love you anyways."

I would have happily stayed like that all night, but Kyle was being uncharicaristically practical and insisting that I sleep. "You're coming off a huge adrenaline rush, you're going to crash." I couldn't really complain though, because he crawled into bed with me. We ended up with our legs in a tangle beneath the sheets, face to face with his fingers trailing up and down my spine as I fought to stay awake.

"Hey, Morgen?"

"Hm?" I mumbled.

He kissed my forehead gently. "You're really cute when you're tired."

I'm pretty sure I fell asleep smiling that night.

When I woke, I could tell that we were already late for school, but to be honest I didn't care. The California sunshine was streaming through the window and I could feel Kyle next to me. "Why didn't you wake me up?" I asked, checking the clock. It was almost 10:15.

"You needed the rest." He said, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my hair. "Besides, you were doing this really cute thing where you take a deep breath in, and then you sort of sigh, and I just couldn't interrupt that."

I gave him a small poke of retaliation before rolling out of bed and walking towards his closet. With the ammount of time I spent here, it was a no brainier to have a small collection of outfits available in case of impromptu sleepovers. "Well, I hope you're happy. We're going to be really late for school now."

"Whatever. We can go in at lunch if you want." He said. "Or we could just stay here. Come on, don't you think we deserve a day off?"

I grabbed a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt. "But then we'll miss the auditions for the talent show."

"Oh, I kinda figured you didn't want to do it anymore."

"Well, I didn't want to do it at first, but we put in so much time, and if we don't do it you can't get your tattoo." I said, walking over to the bathroom door. "Besides, we wouldn't want to disappoint Sierra, would we?" And with that I closed the door.

When I came back out, freshly showered and changed, Kyle was still lying in bed with an arm flopped over his eyes, so I crawled onto the bed so I was on my hands and knees above him. "I'm hungry." I whined."Make me some thing to eat."

Suddenly, he wrapped an arm around my waist, yanking me down on top of him and burying his face into my neck. "Mmm. You smell like me. I like it."

I couldn't help but giggle as he peppered kisses up and down my neck. "Of course I smell like you, I stole your shampoo. All Natalie had was that special curly hair kind. And you are such a caveman."

He kissed my nose. "But I'm your caveman, and that makes all the difference."

I rolled my eyes. "Come on, I'm hungry."

"Alright, I'm coming." He said, finally tossing back the covers and getting out of bed.

We managed to find all the ingredients for French toast, and I sat on the island swinging my legs while Kyle stood in front of the stove with a spatula in hand. "Hey, you never told me what happened last night. Why did you run out into the road like that?"

"Oh." I looked down at my hands. "It was nothing. Just a couple of drunk frat guys. I took care of it."

He quirked an eyebrow at me. "Took care of it, how?"

"Like my momma taught me to." I said with an exaggerated southern accent. "Ain't nobody layin' a hand on me when I don't want them to."

"That's my girl." He smiled.

"Ooh, say that last part again."

"My girl."

"I like the sound of that."

He leaned over to kiss me for what felt like the thousandth time that morning. I was becoming irreparably addicted to my best friend, and I realized that I was completely fine with it.

I'd thought I would be more nervous about the audition, but all I had to was look at Kyle and the nerves just dissipated. We didn't stick around to see Sierra's audition, but it must not have been as excellent as she thought it would be because when the results were posted on Monday, she couldn't stop glaring at us. We'd been chosen, and she hadn't. After everything had fallen to pieces, it finally felt like it was all falling into place.

One month later:

I let Delia pick the dress. It was a simple red thing, with short sleeves and a belt around the waist, but Kyle's jaw dropped when he picked me up the night of the show.

"You're staring."I said, as we stood backstage.

"I know." He replied. "Red, for the Red Cross?"

"Yeah, Delia thought it would be a good idea."

"She was right. You should wear red more often." On stage, the MC was announcing us as the final act of the night. "You ready?" He asked, offering his arm. I took it, not trusting myself to walk all the way to the center of the stage in the ridiculous heels that my younger sister had forced my feet into.

"Let's do this."

When I was settled on the stool in the middle of the stage, I realized just how big of a crowd had gathered for the show. Our family- our whole family was taking up the entire fifth row. Our parents, our sisters, Uncle Sam, Aunt Michelle, even Rick and Mia, everyone had come. I found myself comforted by that.

The intro went off without a hitch, and when Kyle started singing, all the rest of my nerves melted away. "If you were falling, then I would catch you." I smiled at the truth in his words. "If you need a light, I'd find a match."

"'Cause I love the way you say good morning. And you take me the way I am." I piped up, still strumming away on my ukelele.

"If you are chilly, here take my sweater."

"Your head is aching, I'll make it better. 'Cause I love the way you call me Baby. And you take me the way I am." I could hear some chuckles from the audience when I sang the next lines. "I'd buy you Rogaine, when you start losing all your hair. Sew on patches, to all you tear. 'Cause I love you more than I could ever promise. And you take me the way I am. You take me the way I am."

He gave me one of his heart-stopping smiles as we sang the last line together. "You take me the way I am."

He always had, and he always would. Of that I was certain.


	11. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was the kiss we used when 'I love you' wouldn't suffice.

May

He had written it out in the sand while I was showing Mia how to dive under the waves with her board. When we came back in, a single question was scrawled out in the sand: Prom? I said yes, and I thought Mia might die of excitement. Ever since she had found out we were together, she seemed to think that everything we did was the most romantic thing ever.

Which is how I found myself sitting on a stool in the bathroom while Lyla, who was done with school for the semester, curled my hair and pinned it up into an extravagant hairstyle. Delia was standing next to her, holding the bobby pins and hairspray. They had let me choose my eyeshadow (which ended up being varying shades of tan), but they hadn't budged on the lipstick, so I'd sat very still as Delia applied a shade of crimson with artistic precision. It matched my dress perfectly,but I kept worrying that it was on my teeth.

"Stop that." Lyla said, as I checked again. "It's not on your teeth. okay?"

"It feels like is." I pouted, picking up one the dangly gold earrings she'd loaned me and putting it on.

"Trust me, that lipstick's not going anywhere for at least 24 hours." Delia said.

"What is this stuff, sharpie?"

My sisters just laughed. "Do you need help changing?" Lyla asked,picking up a necklace from the counter

"I'm good." I assured her. She nodded, then ushered Delia out of the room, closing the door behind her.

The dress was a simple red thing that hugged my hips, then flared out at the bottom, with sleeves that hung off my shoulders. After stepping into it and zipping myself up, I stepped into my shoes. I was giving myself a quick once-over in the mirror when I heard the doorbell ring.

He was standing in the front entry in a dark grey suit, holding a gift bag in his hands. Mom was already snapping picture after picture on her phone, while Dad tried to look intimidating in the corner. "I'm sure Aunt Kensi already took a thousand pictures, Mom." I chastised, slowly descending the staircase.

Kyle turned to face me, his mouth falling open at the sight of the long, red dress. After his comment at the talent show, I'd started wearing red for special occasions. A red sweater at our family Christmas party, red heels with my black and white dress at Easter dinner. It became a little joke between the two of us, to see how I could incorporate something red into my outfit.

"Wow, Morgen. You look…wow."

"Thanks. You're looking pretty dapper yourself." I smiled.

"I know you said you didn't want a corsage, but I thought this might be a gift you'd appreciate." He said, handing me the gift bag. Beneath the tissue paper was a pair of flip-flops. "In case your feet start to hurt from the heels." He explained.

"They're perfect."

Mom made us pose for a seemingly endless number of pictures before we were finally able to leave. Kyle let me hold his arm as we walked out to the car, opened my door and helped me into the truck.

"What I was trying to say earlier, is that you look beautiful tonight."

I felt my cheeks burning at the compliment, no doubt turning as red as my dress.

We ended up leaving early. The food had been good, and we'd danced so much I thought my feet might actually fall off, but I was getting tired and felt crowded by all the people that had packed themselves on the dance floor at the hotel. So we said our goodbyes and walked back out to the parking lot.

"I'm glad we did that." I said, as we pulled out. "It was actually fun."

"I told you it would be." He said.

"You said it could be fun."

"Semantics." He shrugged. "How does a milkshake sound?" He asked.

"Really good."

We ended up at a Steak n' Shake, eating fries and sipping milkshakes until almost one in the morning. "I should get you home." He said. "Your parents are probably waiting up for you."

Sure enough, the porch lights were on when we pulled into the driveway. Kyle walked me to the door, carrying my long-abandoned heels. "I had fun tonight." I said as we stood together on the porch.

"I'm glad." He said, tucking an errant curl behind my ear. His bright blue eyes looked more like dark ocean waters in the dim light of the porch, and the thought that I would happily drown in those waters flickered across my mind as his face inched closer to mine.

We had shared a lot of kisses over the last eight months; quick teasing kisses, long happy kisses, kisses that said 'I'm sorry', and kisses that made us both dizzy. But this kiss was different. It was slow, almost painfully so, and powerful beyond comprehension. It was the kind of kiss that made promises and kept them, and said a thousand things that words couldn't express. It was the kiss we used when 'I love you' wouldn't suffice.

We kissed like that when we walked out of the tattoo parlor three months later with .MMXX freshly inked onto our skin. The letters clung to his bicep, and their twin took up residence on my forearm directly over my radius.

We kissed like that every time Kyle added to his tattoo. .MMXLII for the day he finally proposed and both of our moms cried when we told them. V. for the day that all our friends and family came together again, so I could become Morgen Lydia Deeks surrounded by the people I loved most in the world. Together, the three of them made a complete ring around his arm, so when he added .MMXLVI to commemorate our oldest son's birth, a new ring had to be started. It was completed by the addition of .MMXLVIII, our second son's birthdate and the date on which he became permanently wrapped around our daughter's finger, .MMLI.

Those two little rings of ink on his arm weren't much, but they represented the things that had become my whole world: our family, our relationship, and the future of both those things. Sixteen had been sweet, but this was so much sweeter. And to think that it only took 1 birthday, 3 teasing siblings, 4 meddling parents, 1 mean girl, 3 really bad tattoo ideas, and 2 dangerous situations to get us to admit that we love each other.


End file.
